Reincarnated
by jones2000
Summary: AU. IIIV stroy in the 'Cursed' series. The Winchesters have made Jo a deal. After one more hunt they'll take her back to Harvelle's Bar. Now its over and they're heading back to LA. At least, they were until Sam started having dreams about Jessica Moore.
1. The Exorcist

_Last time:_

Seven years into the future, Jo Harvelle and her partner are working their own gigs across the country; she's holding down a part-time job in a bar and has a casual boyfriend. All seems fine, until an old face turns up asking for her help on a case.

Sam's back.

Thrust into the middle of another crazy Winchester adventure, Jo comes face to face with things she'd never thought she'd see; a new demon, hunters being slaughtered across the country, and an evil Dean.

* * *

_Now:_

A wise man once said 'three's a crowd'.

He wasn't half wrong.

"_Who used up all the hot water? I'm _so _gonna kick his skinny ass!" _

"I can't find my Lucky Charms."

"Give me back my toothbrush, Dean!"

"Go pop a Prozac, Sam."

"And you can shove your Lucky Charms where the sun don't shine!"

"Bitch."

"Jerk!"

_"Shut up!" _The bathroom door flew open, and Jo stalked out, wrapped in a towel. "Dean, your cereal is in the cupboard _where it's supposed to be, _Sam, you left your toothbrush in the sink _last night. _And all this pales in significance compared to the fact that _someone has used up all the hot water for the fifth day in a row!_"

Sam and Dean both took discreet steps away from the hysterical female, exchanging guilty looks. _Hey, at least she's not bitching about leaving the toilet seat up, _Dean thought.

"Now, Jo-" He began reasonably.

"Don't _you dare _'now, Jo' me. Time might have stood still for you, but it hasn't for the rest of us. _Don't _try to tell me what to do."

Sam conceded that she was right. Part of Dean still viewed both his brother and Jo as children that needed protection, not fully comprehending what the pair of them had done in the intervening six years. Lost time. You never made up for it.

"Sorry, Jo." Sam said. "I'll try to have shorter showers."

_"Brown noser," _Dean whispered as he passed to retrieve his toothbrush.

Jo dressed quickly in the bedroom, her eyes on the darkening horizon at the window. One problem with being the female was the unspoken rule that she would undress and dress in another room relative to the one that the brothers had colonised. (_Though she was pretty certain she didn't have anything the boys hadn't seen before with their previous conquests._)

She walked back into the boxy lounge room to see Dean eating cereal from the packet and Sam sitting hunched over his computer. Five days, and their last hunt was completely bust. Case turned out to be a job for the cops, with the ex-boyfriend trying to spook the girl out with a whole bunch of occult crap.

Five days it took to get the kid to admit to what he was doing, and at the end of that day, Jo had wanted to kick the living snot out of him. So, he'd learnt a few tricks that would let him bend spoons and make tables float. It was like Sam said, '_d'we really want an amateur messing around in this stuff?'_

What was beginning to unnerve her was how seemingly anyone could dabble in the occult and get the desired results. What was the point doing good and always getting into trouble when you could do the opposite and end up living in Fiji or Hawaii or somewhere else ending in 'i' surrounded by everything you ever wanted?

At the same time she had to wonder. What if someone who had a real grasp of spells and darkness went bad? Say, a hunter?

She'd already lived through Evil! Sam and Evil! Dean. Honestly, she didn't think she could live through anyone else going dark side on her.

Jo plonked down beside Sam. "What have you found, Dick Tracy?"

She had stopped calling him 'Allison Dubois' three days ago when Dean had agreed that Sam would have indeed made a nice little blonde woman and Sam had snapped back that he couldn't because he didn't have the aptitude of one. Of course Jo had been just around the corner at the time and proceeded to tell them exactly what she thought about their humour.

Both of them got really quiet for half an hour and she hadn't heard another blonde joke out of them since.

"I think I might have something." He said. "It's on your way home too so we wont have to go much out of our way."

"Great." What was home, really? Was it the place her mum was in LA with a pack of crusty old men? Was it the place her dad was, buried up the back of the Roadhouse among the bones and the ash and the shattered dreams? Or was is where she was now, sitting between the two men who had first thought of her as someone more than Ellen's daughter and Bill's kid? "Really great."

Sam glanced up at her. He recognised the tone but didn't say anything. It would only provoke an outraged denial from her if he asked what was wrong.

"There's this girl." He said. Jo rolled her eyes. Like so many Winchester stories, it all started with a girl. "Nearing bottom of the class, no particular major talents and not very popular. But about the time her parents divorced, she suddenly picked up. Grade A."

"Funny things happen to kids when their parents go different ways." Jo glanced at the computer screen. It was open on a page from a community college newsletter, giving the names of several people that had recently been kicked out for their destructive behaviour. She scanned the article. "How the heck did you get _that _from _this_?"

"I didn't." Sam said. "I dreamt about her."

"There's a no-brainer." Dean replied, eyebrows raised. Jo had to agree. Sam glanced at them both in annoyance.

"I got her name from here." He tapped the screen.

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to believe it."

"Say it already."

"Regan McNeill."

"You're kidding." Dean frowned. "The kid from The Exorcist?"

"Odds are that there would have been someone out there with the same name." Jo said exasperatedly. "It's just a movie."

"Just a movie? That's _the _movie, the one the whole horror genre was based on." Dean stared at her as if she had uttered the highest blasphemy ever blasphemed. "Don't tell me you haven't seen it."

"I am happy to say I am still Exorcist free." Jo frowned at him. "But I have seen _Poltergeist, The Frighteners, Witch Story, The Exorcism of Emily Rose _andread the collective works of Stephen King and Tom Clancy." Sam could see the glint in her eyes. _Beat that. _

"Can we get back to me for a minute?" He asked.

"Sorry."

"Right."

"And I've been having this dream about her. For a while now, actually."

"Yeah? And what do we have to save her from?"

"Well, I don't really know." Sam said.

"You _what_? Then how do we really know that there's anything wrong?"

Sam stared determinedly at his computer. "I _don't know_."

"Okay, then." Jo sighed. "What happens in your dream, then?"

_It was a dream he had been having for weeks now, and nestled in among Lilith's visions and the nightmares she had planted in his head, it had gone unnoticed for a while. Until he saw that picture in that paper._

It was late when he finally got home. The car honked in farewell then slowly pulled out back onto the street and was gone. He was tired, but it was a good tired that bespoke of a job well done. He couldn't wait to see her again.

His nose followed a delicious scent and he found a fresh plate of biscuits. The extra sugary ones with the chocolate buttons that she said would rot your teeth but she smilingly made anyway. There was a note in front to the plate. He picked it up and ran his thumb over the familiar loops of her writing.

_Miss you. Love you._

Smiling, he took a bite out of a biscuit and went into their bedroom. She wasn't there, was probably out with her girlfriends. Doing what everyone else did. That's part of why he loved her; she was so normal. He set the cookie to one side and brushed down his shirt. She'd kill him if she found crumbs in the bed.

Lying back, he closed his eyes. For a minute it didn't matter who he was, or that his father was missing or that his brother was crazy. This was home. Just the two of them.

Something splattered onto his forehead. For a moment he thought that the roof must have started leaking again from when it had been repaired last summer, then it happened again and his eyes blinked open.

Blood. On the ceiling. And there she was. Just hanging there. Staring down at him with big, frightened eyes.

For a moment he didn't believe what he was seeing, didn't _want _to believe what he was seeing. And then he started screaming.

"Jess! _No_!"

"Why, Sam?" She whispered, dying.

_It was an old nightmare, one that Sam had been having on and off for years. Staring up at her beautiful face, helpless as she began to burn, shouting and crying as his brother dragged him from the room._

_Jessica. _

_Only this time she wore the face of Regan McNeill. And Sam would still cry out Jess's name, while she asked that one question that he hated with every fibre of his being as she burned. _

_'Why, Sam?' _

And he knew. Without question. He would not be dreaming about her, she would not have somehow become imprinted in his worst nightmare, unless she was in very real danger.

Regan McNeill was going to die unless Sam stopped it.


	2. Regan

Regan McNeill.

She set the Maths department on fire when she was twelve because she failed the exam. When she was fourteen she stole her English tutor's laptop and hawked it because she didn't like him. When she was fifteen, she planted drugs in the cheerleaders' changing rooms to get Georgina Freeman expelled because she stole her boyfriend. And that was during her stay in the public school system.

Her parents switched her to private. She made a prank bomb call to the front office, stole from the school shop, smoked up the back of the library, ran a continuous loop of Alice Cooper's '_School's Out' _over the intercom, and made an effigy of the headmaster which she and her gang stoned in the quadrangle.

As soon as she started at the community college, she didn't calm down like most students did, but hit the ground running.

She had slotted into a new gang as soon as she crossed the entrance. They vandalised the teacher's lounge before hacking into the school security system and reprogramming all the access codes. She stole her ex-boyfriend's car and drove it into a lake and wrote threatening messages to his new girlfriend.

The college prided itself on teaching hard cases, so they kept her on. But the last straw was when she beheaded a chicken and left it on the dean's desk.

"Now _that _is a classic." It weirded Dean out that a girl could be that messed up, but at the same time her rebellious streak and devil-may-care actions appealed to him. He glanced at her photo again. Even scowling, she had the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen.

"_That _is twisted." Sam said. He was driving once again while Dean's wrist was still splinted. Dean was in passengers and Jo was able to sprawl out over the back bench if she wanted to.

"Dude, I think you're missing the point. The girl beheaded a chicken. That's just so…"

"Typically Satanic?" Jo lent over the seat.

"Well, yeah." Jo still sort of made him nervous. Perhaps it was because she was the only girl that had admitted outright that she tried to pick him up. Perhaps it was the threat of Ellen. Or maybe it was that these days she viewed him immediately as a big brother instead of anything else.

And he decided that getting old sucked.

She continued to read over his shoulder. "And just as the teacher's board are making up their minds whether to expel her or not, she suddenly became as good as gold."

"But the damage was already done." Sam finished. "There must be some connection between that and my dreams. I just haven't found it yet."

"Though the chicken is a classic." Jo agreed.

"Almost as good as the horse head in the bed."

"I've never come across anyone actually doing that."

"We did once. This farmer wanted to get his neighbour to sell up his stables. Tried to make it out like the horses were out to get him."

_"'The Animal Farm'?" _

"Guys, can we focus here? Please?" Sam rolled his eyes as they pulled up in front of a small, dingy pawnshop. Thankfully, there was hardly anyone else around so he could get away with taking up two parking spaces.

The peeling sign read _King's Pawns, _in what was probably meant to be a not-so-subtle allusion to chess. A little brass bell above the door tinkled as Sam held the door open for Jo but dropped it on Dean.

"Hey!" Dean was about to snap something at his brother's back, but stopped as he looked around. One wall was covered with nothing but vinyl records. An antique player stood in the corner next to a massive stereo.

But of course, being a pawnshop, there was probably something wrong with them. He turned around and lined up on the opposite wall, locked securely in their display cases or bolted to the walls, were weapons.

"Good thing I didn't give you any spending money." Sam said smugly.

"Hey Sam, go take a long walk off a short plank."

Sam went over to take a look as Jo rang the counter bell and waited patiently. She turned back and watched as the brothers got into a discussion about something, Dean tapping the display case to his right and Sam gesturing to a case on his left. Probably talking about guns. Which ones were better. Which ones were crap. And how Sam was a pansy for liking stuff Dean didn't. Stuff like that.

When she was little she _had _wanted brothers. Not anymore.

"Good morning."

The woman who had asked was older than her mother, her beadily little eyes flitting about for pickpockets. It was clear that the 'morning' bit only got through because it was company policy.

"Hi." Jo said. "I'm Harmony Lewis. I'm with campus security." She hoped the woman wouldn't ask for identification, because her cards were kind of shonky. "We have reason to believe that an ex-employee of yours removed something from the grounds before she was expelled. Regan McNeill?"

The woman peered at the blonde suspiciously, chewing some gum. _Gum? Since when did anyone over the age of twenty five chew gum? _"You don't look like any campus cops I've ever seen."

"Probably our impenetrable disguises." Jo said dryly.

The woman smirked. "Well. You sound like a campus cop. What has that little tramp done this time?"

"What makes you say that?"

"The little bitch is always stealing from somebody." The woman said. "That's why she don't work here no more, see? Caught her with her hand in the till, skiving money off the top of sales she made. People like that, going nowhere."

"Do you know where we can find her? She moved out of her father's three years ago leaving no forwarding address."

"Try downtown. Living with a fella called Morley. Iggy Morley."

"Thank you for your help, Mrs-?"

"Gayle Post."

Jo shook Gayle Post's hand and turned back to the boys. They were arguing in whispers.

_"Is not." _

_"Are too." _

She rolled her eyes. "Boys will be boys." Mrs Gayle Post muttered. "Trust me, they don't grow out of it."

* * *

Iggy Morley turned out to be one of the big guns of the illegal weapons pushers. He was crass and loud-mouthed and some of his vocabulary was enough to make Dean blush. In short, Sam lost patience with him very quickly.

"Mister Morley." He said in his I'm-trying-to-be-nice-about-it-but-if-you-don't-do-what-I-tell-you-I'm-gonna-pop-a-cap-in-your-ass voice. "It's very important we get in touch with your girlfriend. We believe she may be in danger."

Dean gave a confirmative nod.

"Really, why would the men in black be after my girl? Has she burned down a weapons factory or one of your top-secret labs?"

"That's classified, sir." Dean put in.

"Of course." Morley said with a grin. "Haven't seen her for a week, 'kay?"

The brothers didn't say anything. The way Dean's lip curled in contempt and Sam's silent glare said it all. It took Morley all of two minutes before he cracked. "The bitch packed up and left. No great loss."

_Yeah, I'm sure you're the kind of guy that has girls just queuing to take a shot at you, _Dean thought. "Do you know where she is now, Mister Morley?"

"Do I look like the telephone directory?"Iggy watched as the taller one, Maloney, reached into his jacket. "Okay! Okay. She's at South Street. Flat 101. The one with the goblin. Now beat it!"

"Thank you, Ignatius." Dean said. "If we have further questions about this cesspool your running, we'll contact you. Keep your nose clean."

"Bite my ass, Segal." He hissed.

"Just for that I'll personally be back to wash your mouth out with soap." Dean frowned. "Good day."

"It will be if I never see you two goons again."

When the two were around the corner and safely out of earshot, Dean pulled off his tie.

"What a MASSIVE WANKER." He exploded. "Did you hear that guy? Acting like he was God's gift to women!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Gee, never seen that before."

Dean let his brother's implication roll off him. "You weren't actually going to draw on him, were you?"

Sam reached back into his jacket and withdrew his scratched and battered money clip. "I thought he might like to speak a language he understands. It wasn't my fault he thought I was carrying a gun."

"Uh huh. Sure." The duo slipped into the Impala. "We should have pressed him more."

"If we did he would have run. I don't feel like running today."

"Wuss." The Impala roared into life. "Okay, Sherlock. What did our Mister Morley mean by the _one with the goblin_?"

"Why don't we go find out, then?"

The two of them stayed in their suits as they moseyed further into the lower-class district, so by the end of their slog the brothers were hot, itchy and irritable.

Also, it turned out that South Street was located on a housing estate.

"Great." Dean said. "Flat 101 where?"

Sam slowly drove them up and down the street. "Look for a goblin."

"Sam, that numbers in the most stupid things you've ever said." But he still stared dutifully out the window for any clues that might bring them to the woman they were after.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean complained about being hungry and Sam obediently pulled into the parking lot of a small café. "D'you think if we flashed our IDs we could get a free meal?"

"Our _fake _IDs. And no. It's immoral and stingy."

"You're like an old woman."

So after Sam had made sure their lunches had been paid for, they went back outside and lent against the hood of the Impala.

"_Why _did you have to get _extra onions_?"

"Because I _like _onions. You're just a…" He trailed off suddenly and Sam glanced up.

"Don't tell me you're out of ideas already." Dean pinched his arm. "Ow! What?"

"Goblin. Dead ahead." There was a note of controlled excitement in his voice.

"Where? I don't see it."

"There. _Right there._" Sam followed Dean's pointing finger and mentally slapped himself.

The building next door was called _Grey Goblin Apartments. _


	3. Do you want to know?

"Who in their right mind names something after a supernatural creature?"

"Bloody Mary, anyone?" Dean asked sarcastically. "The point is, I figured it out before you did."

Sam frowned. "The point is, now we've found the place, we have to get in to Regan McNeill."

"That too."

"Bin your onions. Let's go in to find this girl."

Dean reluctantly parted from his lunch. "I've had ten meals in six years. That tends to make one peckish."

"I'll buy you some more smelly things to eat later."

"I am _so _gonna kick your ass."

The inside of Grey Goblin Apartments was as archaic as the outside. Or as Dean said, crusty. Dean followed Sam to the reception desk where the pair of them flashed their ID to get past the crush of people checking out.

"Looks like the place for drifters, hobos and murders." Dean commented. "Like something out of those backpacker horror movies."

Sam only grunted in reply.

Ten minutes later, they were starting on their second staircase, which was chipped and slippery. "How hard would it be to get an elevator installed?"

"Look around, Dean. I'd think they'd have trouble getting a toaster installed." The brothers reached the landing and rounded the corner, when a room service trolley came hurting down the corridor.

"Man, look out!"

Sam stepped aside as the trolley crashed into the wall.

"Maybe it is like The Exorcist." Dean's eyes seemed to light up at the mere thought. "With the pea soup and the head spinning and the making things float…"

"Sorry!" Someone shouted down the corridor. "God, are you alright?"

And Sam saw her as she came jogging down the hall. Light chestnut hair and dark eyes and a nicely shaped face. There was something about her. It felt like he already knew her.

"Sorry. The brakes on those monsters are awful and Helena can't keep up with them if they get away from her these days." Regan McNeill said. "As long as no one was hurt."

"I'm fine." Sam assured her.

"Don't worry about it. Old Jimmy here can take the punishment. You should have seen what they threw at him in cadet training." Dean reached forward to shake Regan's hand as Sam scowled at his back. "Stephen Segal. Agent Stephen Segal."

"Like the action movie actor." Her eyes narrowed. "I'm Regan. Regan McNeill."

"James Maloney." Sam said quickly.

"Regan McNeill." Dean said again as she moved to the trolley and began to push it back up the hall.

"Don't." Regan said firmly. "Every joke you could ever think of. I've heard them all."

They waked back down the hallway with her. "So. What are the feds doing way out here, then?"

"Well, I-"

"We've been sent here to follow up a lead in the whereabouts of two convicted felons." Dean put in smartly, not missing a beat. Sam glanced at him. "And as part of our investigation we're looking over out all budget accommodation where they may be lying low."

"Budget accommodation?" Regan asked a little sceptically. "Are you sure you're really a fed?"

Dean blinked. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Nothing." She looked away. "Just didn't think a fed talked like that. And you two don't look like cops."

"And how do you know what cops look like?" Sam asked. "Do you have many run-ins?"

"Not so fast, cowboy." Regan grinned. "I'm not the one you're 'investigating'. I gotta run. See you guys later maybe, 'kay?"

"Sure." Sam said.

The duo watched her walk away, bringing the trolley back to an older woman clutching an inhaler. Dean glanced at Sam, frowning.

"Buddy, this is a self-destructive cycle you've gotten yourself into." He said seriously. "I don't envy your choice in women _at all_."

"Oh, drop dead."

"We done that already, remember?"

* * *

Jo was at Sam's computer, sitting cross-legged on Dean's bed. "Alright. Grey Goblin Apartments. It was stated some time back in the fifties by a guy called – wait for it – Grey Goblin." 

_"Surely you jest." _Dean said over the phone.

"Not this time. He was actually called Henry Grey, but I guess because he was short and funny-looking, he was dubbed 'the Goblin' by his customers. So he decided to carry the name into business. People would come in to check it out of curiosity. Him and his daughter lived there until she died."

_"Ah, well. Whatever works for him." _

"Other than that there's nothing funny about the place at all or the land it's on."

_"What about Mr Goblin? Anything eccentric about him? Sacrificing chickens to the pagan gods, his own cult, anything?"_

"Clean as."

_"Great." _He said, and there wasn't a lot of enthusiasm in his voice.

"What's happening in your neck of the woods?" Jo asked brightly. "I'm dying of boredom here."

_"Well, we found the place. Found the girl. And now Sammy's got his eye on another damsel in distress. He's got a real Romeo/Juliet complex going on."_

Jo could hear Sam splutter in protest, and there was a brief tussle for the phone.

_"Jo."_

"Sam. I thought I recognised your heavy breathing." She heard Dean snort. "That was sort of unfair to overpower your poor brother when he's only got one hand."

_"Yeah, I know. But he'll figure out some way to get back at me when I let my guard down." _He sighed.

_"Damn straight." _Dean said in the background.

"You pair could get a girl to hang around simply for the entertainment value." She commented. "What's up, Sam?"

_"Could you do a quick search on the FBI database for me?"_

"I guess. What for?"

_"For us. One of Dean's throwaway lines got me thinking."_

"Okay. Hold on." Jo held the phone to her ear with her shoulder and began to type. The website flashed up and she put in her search query.

"Alright, I got it. Winchesters, Sam and Dean. Dad John. Mom Mary. Jeez, you guys are the poster boys for America's Most Wanted. In 2010 the pair of you were officially declared missing presumed dead, with some sly help from Bobby who gave evidence, coincidently."

_"You faked our deaths?" _Dean sounded shocked. _"Bro, I'm proud of you."_

"Problem" Jo scanned the page. "Last month your file was reopened. The guy they've assigned to the case was on it when it first began. When you 'died', he was demoted good and proper for not bringing you in. They brought him back because they thought he'd have more insight."

_"Does it say the guy's name?"_

"Hold on. Hendrickson. Victor Hendrickson."

There was silence on the line. "Guys? You still there?"

_"Yeah." _Sam said. _"Thanks, Jo. Listen-"_

"Sam-" It seemed the phone was cut off at that very moment.

"Damn. It always happens just when I'm getting to the good bit." Jo complained.

* * *

The Impala was very silent after that. 

When Dean came back, he foolishly thought that everything would go back to the way it used to, what with the brothers hitting the road to hunt down every evil sucker between here and there.

It came as a shock to his system to discover that Sam hadn't been idle during those years, and had picked up more than some baggage along the way. Mainly in the shape of other hunters, Jo Harvelle in particular. And that made him uneasy. For as long as he could remember, it was only him and Sam. And now there were all these others as well.

And there was the reputation to deal with. As Dean had faded into obscurity, Sam's star had risen. He'd taken down several big bads along the way, done some major commando crap, and was otherwise thought of as batshit crazy.

And thanks to Kamikaze Sam, there was a whole new batch of critters after 'em.

Yep, it was a brave new world. And not only that, but all their past problems had intensified and quadrupled. Hendrickson. He was a nutter before, now add two criminals he couldn't catch, a wall of silence and zip evidence times seven.

Equals _fun. _

The future. What a place.

"Maybe I'll just go back and sleep for another seven years." He mumbled.

"Close your eyes and pretend it's all a dream." Sam said.

"Oh, go jump." Dean snapped back.

"Hey, don't start on me." Sam's voice was level as he stared out the windscreen. "You're not the one that had to deal with this crap _every day _for _six years, _while you were off God knows where doing God knows what."

"Yeah, 'cause Hell's a real great place. What did you think I was doing, Sam? Sipping pina coladas by the heated pool? It's called _eternal damnation _for a reason, and I never – I wasn't – I didn't – "

He trailed off. What was he supposed to say? _I never meant it to go that way. I wasn't supposed to go to Hell. I didn't deserve… _

Sam glanced out of the corner of his eye as Dean suddenly dropped the conversation and went quiet. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked quietly, hoping to provoke an outraged _'no chic flick moments' _but all his brother did was stare out the window.

"Think about that real hard." Dean replied softly. "And ask yourself whether you really want to know."


	4. Jessica

Jo greeted them at the hotel with a shout of '_It's the Blues Brothers!'_ forcing a small smile onto Dean's face at last.

In all the time that he had been missing, Sam had never stopped to wonder what was happening to him or where he was, knowing that he would probably break down if he stopped to imagine the possibilities. And when they finally got Dean back he had been too caught up in his own emotions to worry about his brother.

Dean had assured him that everything was cool with him, but it obviously wasn't. Something that had been there seven years ago was now missing. Sam could see that and he wondered if they could ever get it back.

Later he took Jo's arm. "We're going for a walk." He announced as Jo raised her eyebrows in surprise.

Dean looked up from where he was watching free-to-air television. "Whatever turns you on." He said, turning back to the screen.

The door closed behind them. "What was that about?" Jo asked.

"I have to talk to you."

"Me? You've got your No. 1 confidante back, go confide in him."

"Jo, please. I think he's… sick or something. He's acting weird."

"Weird."

"Weirder than usual." He said. "Please tell me you've noticed it too."

"Well, he has been a little less in-your-face, but I assumed it was due to my feminine whiles. And if you grin I'll slap you."

He didn't grin. A slap from Jo Harvelle was more than a bee-sting. "It's just… I never really thought about what they did to him. I thought he was putting it behind him but we had this bit of an argument in the Impala and suddenly he went all funny."

"Funny."

"Funny strange." Sam said.

"It's Hell, Sammy." Jo said softly. "You've seen as many depictions of the place that I have. Stories. Art. Legend. Eternal torment. If anything, you've had more experience with it than I have."

He remembered the Devil's Gate. He remembered staring down into the pit. He remembered the visions he had been sent to try and spook him. Devils and Demons and Damned.

"Maybe one day he will tell us about it. Maybe one day when we can understand it a little better. When you really understand why he did what he did."

"But I do."

"Really?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply when someone else cut across him. "James! Or, Agent Maloney if you prefer."

"James." Sam said, caught off-guard. He turned and there was Regan McNeill behind him, putting a fast food box and a magazine in the front of a small car parked off the curb. She walked toward them and even though she was clad in old jeans and a turtleneck, her walk was hypnotising to Sam. Jo gave him a sharp jab in the ribs.

"Didn't think I'd see you so soon." Regan began conversationally. "Careful, I might think you're stalking me. Do the FBI routinely go about their investigations in ripped jeans and ACDC tee shirts?"

"Ah, it's my day off. And the shirt's my brother's." Which was partly true. Something about lying to this woman was driving his sense of morals crazy.

"Don't be fooled. He's normally very suave." Jo said. Sam could hear the barely contained laughter in her voice.

"This is, ah-"

"I'm his sister. Harmony." Jo shook Regan's hand. "I was in the area and thought I'd check up on little Jimmy here." _Little Jimmy _glowered at the top of her head.

"Well, nice to meet you. Good to see you again, James." At that she got into her car and pulled away.

Jo glanced at Sam's dumbstruck expression. "So. I'm taking it that that was our hellcat Regan McNeill?"

"Yeah."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm growing antlers out my ass."

"Cool."

"Sam wears women's underwear."

"Right."

Jo rolled her eyes and pinched his arm. "Can we _focus _here? She's not even that pretty! I thought Dean was the one that went ga-ga when a half presentable pair of legs walked past."

"That's not it." Sam said.

"What isn't what?"

"That walk. Even the way she talks."

"That's it, I am _so_ out of here."

"I realised why it's so familiar, Jo." He said. Joy and pain clashed inside him as he fully realised the implications of what he was about to suggest. Jo crossed her arms and waited for him to say it.

"She's Jessica."

Jo looked like the faintest breeze could knock her down. "What, dead girlfriend Jessica is somehow in rebel-without-a-cause Regan McNeill? You gottta be kidding!"

His expression didn't change.

"Okay, not kidding. God, Dean's going to have fun."

* * *

"I _told_ you we were going to get an Exorcist one. I _told _you." Dean looked much brighter after Sam had filled him in on the details. "Okay, no head 360s or fake puke, but still."

"And that just leaves the question of whether she really is in danger." Jo said.

"I told you. My dreams-"

"They could just be dreams." She said. "Maybe you glimpsed a girl down the street who reminded you of Jessica Moore, and your subconsciousness superimposed the two. And your mind has settled on this Regan because inside you don't want to admit that this time there's nothing to chase."

The Winchesters were silent for a long moment.

"Wow." Dean finally said. "What else are you hiding underneath all that blonde?"

Jo glared at him.

"That could be true." Sam said, always the one to not rock the boat. "But say I'm true, and that's Jess?"

"It's not Jess, it's Regan." Dean corrected absently. "Jess looked much better in a pair of short-shorts."

"Then we get back to my original point of 'is she really in danger?'" Jo said. "There are plenty of cases of supposed reincarnation where the person hasn't been harmed. Did Jessica ever mention hurting anybody?"

"No! Never."

"Then she's safe, isn't she? There's no insane murderer waiting to take her over while she sleeps. Sam, I think we should drop this one and just go back to the Bar."

"We should still-"

"Sam." Dean said softly. "I know it's hard. I know part of you will always," he baulked at the word. "Love her, but man, it's time to let her go. Move on."

"But-"

"If it's a spirit." Jo said. "Residing in her body, something's keeping it here. And the only thing left is you. If she's now a spirit, you're the one keeping her from moving on."

Sam blinked furiously. "But, no…" He trailed off.

"Jo's right." Dean said. "It's time to drop this one."

Sam slowly nodded. "Yes. I suppose you're right."

* * *

She couldn't sleep, and was continuously tossing and turning.

"No…" She moaned, her limbs feeling heavy as if the bones had been filled with lead. "No…"

_Surrender to me. You can't survive much longer. _

"Get out of my head."

_My head. And my body. And my mind. _

She felt like she was drowning, trying desperately to keep her head above the water while she was repeatedly swamped by waves. "I won't… let you hurt them."

_Yes, you will. You have no choice. _

It reached for her and she screamed, feeling who and what she was slip out of her grasp. _"Get out of my head!" _

Sam sat bolt upright. Shouts of 'get out' still echoed in his ears. An utterance even he had been prone to over the years.

Dean and Jo were staring at him. Both of them were used to him talking in his sleep and sometimes rolling out of bed, but this time he must have said or done something really shocking.

"What did I do?" He asked, and there was a slight tremor in his voice.

"You shouted." Jo said.

"What did I shout?"

"'Get out of me head'." Dean said. "We thought – I thought – "

"We were going to give you ten minutes to wake up by yourself." Jo continued.

"And then we were going to wake you ourselves." It was then Sam noticed the flask of Holy water in Dean's hand and the battered black leather book in Jo's.

"You thought something was in me."

"Be fair, what were we supposed to think?" Dean growled. "Scaring the crap out of us like that."

"It wasn't me." Sam whispered. "Someone else."

"Who?"

_He remembered staring though frightened eyes out over the skyline of the town. He remembered staring at the sign outside the room. 'Grey Goblin Apartments'._

"Regan." He said. "Something is trying to take over Regan McNeill."

Jo glanced at Dean. "Looks like you might get your Exorcist moment after all."


	5. Grey

Sam pounded on the door. "Open up, Miss McNeill."

Nothing happened so he tried again. "Miss McNeill!"

"Miss McNeill, it's Maloney and Segal again." Dean said. He tried the handle. "Okay. Back away a bit." He braced his shoulder against the door and threw his weight against it.

The door swung open. Dean took point, Sam following behind.

"Miss McNeill?"

The room was dark, no lights on and the blinds down. "Get the lights." Dean directed. Sam flicked a switch and the room was thrown into the harsh illumination of the bare lightbulb.

The place still had remnants of her wild-child days, most notably a photo of herself and friends in front of a bikers' pub and a set of what Sam swore were brass knuckles. But otherwise the place seemed cosy.

Too cosy. There were little china cats lined up on the sideboard and not a thing out of place he could see. No magazines casually left lying around and no washing up in the sink.

"Is anyone else starting to pick up a _Stepford Wives _vibe?" Dean asked with a shudder. "Something's definitely up with this woman."

"Regan?" Sam asked cautiously. He was aware of his brother reaching under his jacket. "Regan, are you here?"

"In here," The voice was bubby and unusually perky.

"_Who _actually talks like that?" Dean whispered as Sam passed by him.

"Regan?"

She was standing with her back to them, slicing up some sort of vegetable. Clad only in a short dressing gown, her dark hair hung like tangled strings around her pale face.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam stopped. "How do you know who I am?" He asked in a low voice.

"Don't you remember? I've known you since I was eighteen." _He remembered glancing up over the head of his professor and spotting the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had grinned back when she noticed him watching her and he looked away shyly. _"I know all about you."

* * *

Jo was once again at Sam's computer. Something didn't sit right with her about this case.

_Henry Grey, Grey Goblin Apartments, _she searched.

"'Henry Grey, founder and manager until his daughter died in 1965. She tragically passed away after a long illness where she claimed to see ghosts and insisted to her father that she would continue to live no matter what. His daughter…'."

She stopped reading and reached for her phone, punching in Sam's number.

_This is Sam Winchester. I can't come to the phone, so please leave a message. _

"Damn!" Everyone always had their phones off if you needed them. So she tried Dean. It rang for an interminable few minutes. "Pick up. Come on and pick up."

Finally the call connected. _"Yeah?" _Dean sounded dazed.

"You're not going to believe what I've got."

* * *

Dean gave a forced grin. "Don't let me interrupt you crazy kids." He said, turning away and back into the lounge room. Sam tried to pick up on the conversation, before realising that his brother had turned the volume on his phone down and was not saying anything at all.

"So. Regan." Sam cleared his throat. "You, ah, know me, then?"

"Very well, I'd like to think. You don't recognise me, do you?"

"Am I supposed to?"

"It's me, you clown. Jess."

The world stopped.

"Are you real?" He asked.

"I'd like to think so. Sometimes I'm not too sure. I guess it depends on what you want to believe." She swept the vegetables aside and put the knife in the sink. "If you believe I'm here," she said coyly. "Then I'm here."

"But you're dead."

"I was. For a while. I remember dying, and just as it was getting too much, it stopped hurting. Like I was watching it all happening to a different person. But I still knew it was me. It was totally creepy."

Sam nodded. "I can understand that." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "But this is wrong. What's going to happen to Regan?"

"It doesn't matter. We're together again. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

"Don't answer that, Sam." Dean ordered. He snapped his phone closed with a final click. Sam could tell by the crinkle in his brow that he was _pissed_. "Don't you _dare _answer that. And you can get the hell away from my brother."

"It's Jess! Dean, what the hell are you doing?" Sam demanded.

Dean ignored him. "Tell me, _Jess_, what were the exact colour of your eyes? What did you wear to your senior prom? When was the first time you kissed my brother?"

"Dean!"

"Dude, girls remember those things in minute detail." He said steadily. "And I don't think this _woman_ can tell us at all. Isn't that right, _Jessica_?"

She continued to look politely confused. "I don't know what you're-"

"The hell you do." Dean snapped. "Why don't you start telling the truth, Jessica _Grey_?"

The world stopped for a different reason.

_"Who?" _Sam asked.

"Jessica Grey. Daughter of Henry Grey. The guy who built this apartment block." He replied. "She died when she was fifteen. Actually in the room two doors down from this one. Polio. And at the end the kid was delusional. Reckoned she could see ghosts. Apparently she told her best friend that she wasn't going to die, and that she was going to take the body of the nearest woman."

"She used _voodoo_?" Sam's attention was slowly being turned away from the woman.

"Not really. More of a curse." This time it was Regan that spoke. She sat down with her head bowed.

"How many girls were there before Regan McNeill?" Dean asked in a carefully controlled voice. "How many girls did you crush? Take away their chance to live their lives?"

"I made their lives better!" She snapped. "They were all hopeless waste, drug addicts, homeless, prostitutes. The poor. I gave them a better life than the ones they already had!"

"And did any of them thank you?" He asked quietly. "Didn't you think it's up to them? They had the right to screw up their lives as much as anyone else!"

She looked up at him, and her eyes were angry. "You don't understand. You lot, you _never will. _You're so caught up with hunting us down you never really question _why._ Why do they stay? Is it really as simple as something tethering them to this dimension? Do you stop to marvel how humanity endures even after death? No. It's new and never seen before, so _let's kill it_."

"So. Do you have a reason for still being here? For doing this?" Sam asked, disgusted at himself for being so quickly sucked in. "Or did you just see me walking down the street one day, said _he could be trouble _and decided to pose as my DEAD GIRLFRIEND?"

"Cool, Sam." Dean said. He turned to Regan. "Well?" He asked icily.

Regan's eyes were bright. "The ghosts you hunt. Why do they stay?"

"Something tethering them to this dimension, of course." Dean shrugged, smirking.

"Think on that."

"You can bet I will." He said.** "**Deus, in nómine tuo salvum me fac, et virtúte tua age causam meam…"

* * *

"D'you think that'll hold her?" Sam asked.

"No idea. 'Cause she's not really a demon, I can't tell. It might hold her for a while but if she really wants to stay alive, she'll be back soon." The brothers were in the Impala, departing from the Grey Goblin. They had left Regan huddled sobbing and shaking in the middle of a Devil's Trap, and now they were off to find the remains of Jessica Grey.

"I'm so _stupid_."

"I could have told you that."

"Really, I was sucked right in from the moment Regan walked down the hallway."

"Sammy, she knew you were a threat, and she knew your one weak spot was Jess, because you talked to Jo about her. It's not your fault."

"Yeah." He sighed.

To distract himself from Angsty Sam, he dialled Jo's number.

_"Give me a minute." _She sounded harassed. _"Sam only phoned five minutes ago." _

"Yeah, but Sam's doing the whole guilt trip thing and I'd rather talk to you."

_"Thanks. I think. Hold on. Jessica Henrietta Grey. Palm View Cemetery, Roman Catholic section, row three." _

"Cool. Thanks, Jo." He hung up. "Palm View Cemetery. Row three in the Roman Catholic section. Let's toast this bitch."

They pulled up in front of the Cemetery gates. "Now here's a familiar sight." Dean commented as he got out of the Impala. Sam passed him a canister of salt, matches and a torch, while he pulled out a shovel and a can of petrol.

"Find the place. I'll dig." Sam instructed.

"Yes captain, oh captain."

"Shut up."

The two proceeded to the Roman Catholic section. "Ah, found it." It was an ornate piece of work, with the dates of birth and death, her full name, and a small epitaph. A dangerous-looking angel loomed over the grave.

"You know," Sam suddenly said, digging his shovel into the soft earth. "Maybe you better give Jo another ring. Tell her to stay in the flat."

"Ah, why?"

"Could you just do it?"

"Jeez, okay." He fished out the phone with his good hand and punched in her number as Sam started digging. He glanced up at Dean expectantly. "It's ringing."

Despite obviously tying not to, he looked worried. "Chill, Sam. She's not going to do anything stupid."

"Philadelphia." Sam said tightly.

"She was just a kid back then."

"She was the same age I was."

Dean had never really thought of their ages being similar before. Mainly because Sam had always been freakishly mature and when he'd first met Jo she was like a hyper-excited schoolgirl who wanted to get out and see the world.

"It's ringing."

They waited in silence. Suddenly strains from Bon Jovi's _'It's my Life' _sailed over the graveyard toward them. The brothers turned. Coming toward them from down the path was Jo, blonde hair flying behind her in the wind.

"Damn, Jo. Why didn't you answer?" Dean asked exasperatedly, snapping his phone shut. Sam swallowed as she stepped into the light.

"Since I was here anyway I didn't see the point." Her voice sounded strange and stilted. Dean gave her a look of confusion.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Jo cocked her head to the side.

"Get back." Sam jumped out of the small hole he had made and dragged a small notepad from his jacket pocket. "Dean, that's not Jo."

"You what?"

"It's Jessica." He growled.


	6. Money

"Get out of her." Sam demanded.

"Since I am the one holding your friend hostage, I do believe that you aren't in the position to make commands." Jessica said in Jo's voice. "I do believe you're the most careless hunters I've come across since, gosh, it would have to be 1989."

"How did you know we're hunters?"

"I recognised your style. And this Joanna confirmed it."

"Jo would never-"

"Not willingly, of course." She smiled. "I'm in her head, Samuel. I can see everything she sees, think everything she thinks. And my oh my, she certainly has some muddled emotions concerning you two."

Scowling, Sam flicked open the notebook. "_Deus, in nómine tuo salvum me_-"

That was when she bent down and threw the salt canister at him, with all the force that Jo's body could muster.

Which turned out was quite a lot, as Sam stumbled back and cracked his head against the angel's staff. He slid down the smooth, white surface of the gravestone, sitting on the earthbound remains of Jessica Grey.

"One burned, twice wary." Jessica said. "You wont catch me again that easily."

Suddenly Dean grabbed her from behind, wrapping his good arm around her neck. "Get out of her." He hissed in her ear.

"Or you'll do what?" Jessica sneered. She brought her heel crashing back into his shin before spinning in his arms and delivering a sound crack to the jaw. Dean stumbled back but didn't back down. He threw a punch at her, which she blocked easily.

Sam blinked. The ground was spinning a little less now, and he grabbed onto the bottom of the angel's staff to help himself up. He glanced back down to the mussed ground. There was something glinting at him from the disturbed earth. Sinking back down, he bent to retrieve it.

He was oblivious to everything else as he pulled a silver cigarette box from the ground. Finding the catch, he shook the contents out onto his palm.

A key rattled out of the container.

"No! Get away from that!" Jessica screeched. Her moment of distraction gave Dean an opening to tackle her around the waist and pin her to the ground.

"Burn the bones!" He ordered.

"But we haven't dug up the grave up yet!"

"Then do it fast!" There was a note of desperation in his voice.

"You miserable sons of bitches!" Jessica screamed. "You will burn in Hell for disturbing the dead!"

"Honey, been there done that." Dean growled. "And the dead don't get more disturbed than _you_."

"What is wrong with wanting to live?"

"Everyone has their time and everything dies."

"Aren't you living testament to the opposite?" She jeered, and Dean, who had been careful not to hurt her because it would hurt Jo, snapped, brining his fist crashing down across the side of her face. Then all was still and quiet once more.

"If it moves, hit it." Sam said scornfully.

"Bite me." Dean growled. He backed away, but stayed close enough to hit her again if need be.

"Just dig 'er up."

It took half an hour before Sam broke through to what was left of the coffin. He climbed out of the hole. "Got her."

He sloshed her bones with petrol before pouring in the salt, shaking the tin until the last grains fell out. He also threw in the cigarette container.

"Sammy."

"Mm."

"Don't you think you better throw in the key too? Just to be sure."

_He had slipped the key discreetly into his pocket just as Jo delivered an almighty kick to Dean's midsection. _

"How did you-?"

"Come on, man. I don't want to have to come back."

Sam struck a match. "I will get rid of it. But first I want to know what it opens."

He dropped the match. The pair of them watched as the fire took hold, reaching up into the sky. "I hate barbeques." Dean said softly. Sam glanced back at his brother, some of his face already starting to bruise.

"She really got you good, didn't she?"

"And I hate you." He bent over Jo. "Time to get up, sweetheart."

As Sam watched, Jo's eyelids fluttered open. As soon as she realised who was bending over her, her arm snaked up and she slapped him.

"Ow! You hit me!" 

"You hit me first!"

"You were possessed!"

"Oh, it's possessed, _so hit it_!"

Sam couldn't help but grin. They had a real love/hate chemistry going on. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and did his best to soak up the bloodstains on the headstone. "After someone finds all this, I give Hendrickson a week before he's down here."

That shut Dean up. "Who exactly _is _this Hendrickson guy?" Jo asked as Sam helped pull her to her feet.

"Federal agent." Sam said. "His sole function was to track us down."

They sank into the Impala, slamming the doors.

"He researched us and Dad and Mom. Tracked down every civilian we'd ever helped and questioned them before scratching them off as crazy. Every time he's been in town, it's been a _very _near miss."

"We have history. The dude's completely whacked." Dean said. He took the key from Sam as Sam started the engine. "Looks like a safety deposit box key."

"You reckon?"

"Sure."

"The bank's not going to be open until tomorrow." Jo reminded them.

"Then we'll go there tomorrow."

* * *

"Hi. Me and my brother have inherited this key from a distant uncle, and we're wondering if you can show us to the box it matches." Dean gave his most charming smile to the teller.

"ID."

Both of them reached for their wallets. Dean extracted a New Jersey driver's licence with the name _Bernie Fanning. _The teller matched his photos and then took the key off him.

"Right this way, please."

As the boys followed her, Sam mouthed _'Bernie Fanning?' _Dean pulled a face.

They walked into a small room off the main area, wall to wall with deposit boxes. There were several cameras pointed around to make sure that people didn't try to break into other people's boxes.

"You've come to collect?" The teller asked.

"If we could." Sam said.

"Depending on how much and what you remove, you may have some forms to sign."

"That's fine."

She fitted the key into a box and pulled it smoothly out of the cabinet, before placing it on the table in the middle of the room. "I'll leave you gentlemen alone."

"Thank you."

When she was gone, both boys stared at the box. "Am I the only one expecting something creepy to try and crawl out?" Dean asked.

"No." Sam reached forward and opened the top. Both of them stepped back, but there were no noxious fumes or _Indiana Jones-_like ghosts. Instead there was money. American legal tender, and lots of it. Dean whistled.

"No wonder she didn't want to die with this loot. To get this much, she had to have started embezzling from her dad before she could walk." He fished out a bundle and began counting. Sam dug under the notes, feeling frustrated.

What ghosts were motivated by financial gains? There had to be something else. There had to be something more to it than money!

The box was empty aside from the many wads of cash. He sighed.

"We're taking it all with us. Every last note."

"Sammy, that's what I'm taking about!"

He lowered his voice so it wouldn't be caught on audio. "We have to burn it, Dean. It and the key. Get rid of it all."

Dean seemed to visibly deflate. "You have got to be joking."

Sam narrowed his eyes and scowled. Maybe it was possible to have a person that was interested in maintaining their wealth even after they were dead.

"Okay. Not joking." His brother frowned, his brow furrowed. "This is _so unfair_."


	7. Exorcising Jess

Regan McNeill was going to be all right. Though she said that if she saw any of them ever again she'd call the cops.

The three of them salted and burnt the money the next day, and Sam had made sure that neither of his cohorts touched any of it. Even one note could allow the vindictive spirit of Jessica Grey to survive.

Dean had insisted on doing the honours, and when he struck the match, Sam was certain that a pained expression flashed across his face. As the flames leapt higher, Sam dropped the small key into the blaze.

"Goodbye, Jessica." He said, though who he wasn't quite so sure of.

In a matter of minutes, the blaze had burnt down to ash. "That's it, then." Jo said tonelessly. "Time to go home."

Dean raked a hand through his hair. "You could, ah, stay a bit longer." He offered awkwardly.

"A deal's a deal." Jo replied. "Besides, I'm only a little girl who'll get you into trouble."

"Jo-"

"Seriously, you guys are cool, but I don't think I could handle this all the time. Anyway, Mom will be ecstatic to know I'm somewhere where she can keep an eye on me."

"Actually, I was going to ask what it was like being possessed."

"Kind of weird." She raised her eyebrows at his change in subject. "And kind of embarrassing."

"Embarrassing?" Sam asked her as he slipped into the driver's seat.

"Well, how well could you concentrate if someone kept whispering in your ear that Dean's got a cute butt?"

Jo and Sam laughed. "Mock me if you will, but all it means is I've still got it." Dean retorted.

* * *

The Bar's lights were blaring as the Impala roared to a stop. 

Jo noticed some guy puking in the bushes as she popped the trunk to pull out her bag that had been sitting squashed between Sam's bag and Dean's bag. A sound like someone squeezing a cat issued from inside the Bar, and she had to listen for a bit before she realised it was someone actually _singing. _

"So. I guess I'll see you around, then."

"I guess so. Hope so." Sam smiled. "Look after yourself, okay?"

"Nothing's a given." She replied, slinging her shotgun over her shoulder. "Come in for drinks. Courtesy of the management."

"Cool. I'll have a beer." Dean said, following her into the bar. "Sam will have one of those pink things with the orange wedge."

"Hey!"

The first thing Jo saw upon entering was her mother bending over the drunk who had been singing, pouring something down his throat. She recognised it as Ellen's sobering-up brew. It consisted of coffee and hot sauce and a few other things. Jo remembered her using it on John Winchester once when she was very small.

It sobered him up quick, but he told Ellen that he couldn't get the taste out of his mouth for a week. "Mom!"

Ellen Harvelle looked up and smiled. "Be with you in a minute."

It took some clever manoeuvring to navigate the bar filled with thugs, drunks and thuggish drunks. Jo finally reached the bar and threw down her bag and weapons behind it. "Dean, a beer. Sam, a-?"

"Gin and tonic." He said quickly, sitting on a stool in front of the bar. Dean threw him a disgusted glance as he did likewise. Jo, looking faintly amused, prepared their drinks.

"One for the road."

"Hey, JoJo, while you're pouring, ya want to grab me another?" A much older man with long, greasy hair hooted out.

"Put it away, Randy, before someone cuts it off."

Dean and Sam glanced at each other and grinned, as there was a roar of laughter behind them. "Gee. I can't imagine why you ran away from all this." Dean commented in an offhand manner.

"You get used to it. This is the sort of place I was raised, remember. No one noticed me until I was about fifteen." She placed Sam's glass in front of him.

"And a blossoming young woman."

Jo laughed as she finished Dean's. "I think I've finally realised that this is probably more dangerous and terrifying than going about on my own. And I'll almost certainly find out more than I possibly could otherwise by being here."

"So. All's well that ends well?"

"You irresponsible hellions. You take my daughter – _again_ – then have the nerve to turn up on my property and drink away my livelihood?" But there was a smile in her voice as she said it.

"Hey, Mom. How's the Singing Budgie?"

"Sober as the day he was ordained."

"He's a _priest_?"

"Hey, Ellen."

"How are you?"

"Not better, not worse." Ellen said. There was a funny catch to her voice. "And how are you boys coping?"

"Ah, pretty good. Ellen, are you alright?" Sam asked her.

Ellen joined her daughter behind the bar and motioned the boys in closer. "You boys better look after yourselves. Watch each other's backs."

"Sure. Always. Ellen-"

"There was a fed in here not that long ago." She said shortly. "Spooked the crap out of my kids. The guy called himself Hendrickson. Ring a bell?"

"Quite a few, actually." Dean said grimly. "Why did he come here?"

"The man reckoned someone anonymously posted a photo of you kids through his door. He came here because this place was in the background. The car was there too. Licence plate number. He's probably running it as we speak."

"So he knows that we were here."

"He knows an awful lot. I only talked to him for maybe ten minutes and he's as mad as a cut snake. He's not going to stop until he's brought you in."

"Thanks, Ellen." Sam said quietly. In his head he was sizing up where they could get new plates for the car and new fake IDs done. Then he noticed something else unsettling in her steely-eyed glare. "You think there's a mole?" He said quietly.

She lowered her voice even further. "I wouldn't normally say this about people in my bar, but I think we've got ourselves an outside contractor. Someone who's not really associated with hunting _perse, _and only works with the government when it suits them." Ellen looked around the crowded room. "Only trust yourselves and your closest friends."

"Are you saying we've got a hunter following us?" Dean hissed. "A friggin' _bounty hunter_?"

She frowned. "And whoever he or she is, they're easily a match for you."

"Do you have any idea who they are?"

"Look around, Sam. Would you expect anyone here _not _to pull a knife on you if given a reason?"

"Good point." Dean said. "So. Crazy federal agent and a crazy bounty hunter. Man, this gets better all the time."

"We'll pass on anything else we find out." Ellen said. Jo nodded, looking worried. "Lie low for a bit. Keep your noses clean until the investigation cools off again."

"You know we can't do that. We have to follow the cases." Sam said.

"Just like your dad. He got himself into similar trouble when he was about your age. Telling me and Bill his job was more important than his safety." She sighed. "You'll do what you think is best. Winchesters always do. Be good. Stay alive."

"Yes, ma'am." Dean said solemnly.

* * *

"It's a good thing you're staying." 

"Is it?"

"Yes. If we're caught, you're not going to be an accessory."

"Sam, shut up." She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Do you know how much of a free rein that gives me?"

"Ooh, college boy thinks he's clever. Don't let Dean rub you up the wrong way."

"As long as he doesn't start humming 'On the Road Again', I'll be fine." He assured her. "Catch you later."

"You bet."

She waved as the Impala pulled away.

"This is the life. You, me, the open road and good music." Dean reached forward to turn on the radio. _Bon Jovi _came over the speakers. "Heck, no." He reached out to change it.

"Leave it for a bit." Sam said. "I like this one."

"Pansy." Dean left the knobs and turned to the window.

_**'It's my life, **_

_**It's now or never **_

**_I ain't gonna live forever_**

**_I just want to live while I'm alive _**

**_It's my life.' _**

"Half the money. In advance."

The other man frowned. "You do know I have enough on file to take you in right here."

"Catch me if you can." A laugh from the darkness. "You haven't managed to get Dean Winchester yet, and he's one clumsy son of a bitch when it comes to cleaning up after himself. Besides, who else would do your dirty work for you?"

He didn't say anything.

"And then you'd have to try and explain to your colleagues why you were associating with a known perp anyway. Don't bullshit me. Half the money or I take my services elsewhere."

"Meet me tomorrow at the usual place. I'll have your cash. You better have new information about the Winchesters." He turned to walk away.

"You really have it in for those clowns."

Agent Victor Hendrickson scowled. "You have no idea."

* * *

**Author's Note & Disclaimer: **

The lyrics of _It's my Life _belong to Bon Jovi and anyone directly associated with the band.

I don't own anything out of _Supernatural, _including Sam, Dean, Jo and Jess.

The evil Jessica Grey is solely mine. Money seems the driving force behind a lot of the living, why not the dead?

Thanks to all that reviewed and all that read without reviewing. And a big thanks to Fairyofmusic, who has read and reviewed all my _Supernatural _stories. All feedback is _very _appreciated and I will get around to returning the favour.

These stories will continue until I either run out of ideas or people tire of reading them.

_Next story is Amnesia. _

A Winchester is injured during a botched hunt, and several days later wakes up in a strange bed in a strange room. And he can't remember how he got there, why there were assorted weapons in his clothes, and why this 'Sam' keeps calling looking for 'Dean'.

Calling himself John, he meets the girl that had been looking after him during those few days. She says her name is Gabby Rosalini, and she's a hunter. Moreover, she knows he's a hunter as well. John, it seems, has stumbled into the middle of her investigation.

Gabby allows John to stay with her and help with her case until he remembers who he is. But as fragments of memory and a killer's senses begin to emerge, he has to ask himself whether he wants to remember at all.


End file.
